


5 minutes

by blackberry_pop



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: F/M, Interdimensional Travel, Interplanetary Travel, Reader is a vampire, Rick's ex - Freeform, ex relationship, it's not major though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2019-02-11 22:19:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12945228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackberry_pop/pseuds/blackberry_pop
Summary: “You could know Rick for 5 minutes and have him disappear for 5 years, the moment you see him again everything goes right back to the day he left you.”





	5 minutes

Rick Sanchez nearly broke his ankle as he stumbled through another glowing green portal. Liquor had soaked the bottom half of his lab coat, and he shucked it off to fall into the dimly lit streets. His pants were pretty wet, too, but he couldn’t do anything about that. He took a dizzy step forward, then about faced entirely too quickly. His head swam and he nearly fell over, he had to pace a few feet in an effort to calm the world spinning around him. Taking a deep breath and swallowing a bit of vomit, he ducked his head down and rifled through the ruined lab coat. He gave a grumbling, warbly sort of cheer when he procured the flask he kept on his person at all times.

 

His mood soured even more when he unscrewed the lid and found nothing more than a splash of liquid left. The universe was really turning its back on him this go round. He made a rough frustrated noise and threw the flask back where his coat was. That was the _very_ last of it. Rick had no idea where he was, had just entered coordinates, shot out a portal and left the bar before that stool could smash over his head. He had nowhere to go, but started walking anyway. He’d been to his favorite bars across all dimensions, dragged his dick through at least 50 species that night, none of it was enough. After that worm of a man had stolen his everything he’d all but drowned himself in vices of distraction, but they couldn’t quiet his mind. He’d lost his family, lost Morty, been kicked out of every establishment he’d visited today, and he was out of liquor. Smartest man in the universe and he’d hit rock bottom. And the sick part of it was, no matter how fucked up he was right now, he couldn’t stop remembering that. _This_ was his lowest point. Lower than when he’d stabbed Squanchy in the chest and broken up Flesh Curtains, lower than when he proposed creating that stuffy citadel, lower than when he left his daughter with that bitch. He’d lost the one thing Rick’s were good at, _control_ . Despite knowing the next move a person was going to make, he’d been bested by a middle aged pile of wimp, had his daughter and grandkids snatched from underneath him because of that one _single_ emotion: pity. And he no longer had the energy to kill Jerry, because it wouldn’t work, they wouldn’t come back to him. He could manipulate numbers, but never feelings, the universe didn’t require that skill.

 

He was so far past blackout, his legs hurt but he kept walking. He wasn’t young, though, and he had to stop to at least sit down and rest his aching knees. This planet was pretty close to his own, he realized that when he sat himself down on the curb of a normal suburban road. The sky was a weird peachy orange though, like the Sun was setting or rising. He didn’t think he’d been walking for hours, but he recognized that the sky hadn’t changed into day or night. It was as if this place was in a permanent twilight. Maybe he was dead and this was his hell, or maybe he was just on some freaky planet in a weird dimension. It didn’t matter to him sober and it certainly wouldn’t matter to him drunk. He continued to walk and walk despite how draining it was.

 ~

A thud on the front door stirred her from rest. Bleary-eyed, she checked the digital clock on her night stand. It was still the rest hour in her District, so why would someone be over at this time? No matter, she rose from the comfort of the bed and slipped on a thin robe. There was no more knocking against the door, they could have left, but she figured she should still check it out. She slid on a worn pair of flip flops. Just before opening the door she looked over at the key basket. A carton of unopened cigarettes sat there. It’d been two months now since she’d quit this time, she still had to shake herself and ignore the opportunity for a smoke. It didn’t stop her from picking up the carton and fiddling with it.

 

She flicked the porch light on, took a deep breath, and cracked open the door. What was there on her front steps made her want to immediately shut the door again. There, swaying on his feet, shivering in alcohol-soaked slacks, was Rick Sanchez. It’d been decades since she’d seen him, he had clearly aged like all humans did, but that hair unmistakable, a sky blue she remembered clearly. Even under the wrinkles and slouching posture, she saw the same thin frame that she’d been attracted to before. It was no matter, she hadn’t expected to see him and she certainly didn’t want to. From the vague look of shock on his face, she guessed he hadn’t been searching for her either. Good, so he’d held true to what he’d promised decades ago, he’d been leaving her alone.

 

Neither of them moved, just took each other in. Finally, in Rick fashion, he opened his mouth and grumbled a “you’re still as sexy as before,” then fell face first onto the brick of her walkway. That seemed to be the last straw for her. She blinked and then disappeared into the darkness of the house. Rick lay completely still, but a bit of blood was leaking from his nose, he’d hit it clean against the steps, she could smell it. When she returned beneath the dim glow of her porch light she had a lighter in her hand, which she sparked until a flame rose. She’d been off of them for two months, longer than ever before, but this certainly warranted a cheat day. She lit the cigarette carefully, and took a long, soothing drag.

 

Smoke blew from her mouth into the air, mixing with the pink sky above. Her arms crossed and she stared down at the monster lying unconscious at her feet. “God dammit, Rick,” she whispered, then took another drag.

~

“Wait explain this to me again, from the beginning.” She sighed and ran fingers through her hair. After managing to smoke only half the cigarette, she’d promptly stomped it out and run upstairs to find her husband. He had shrugged on a pair of bottoms and followed her to the front porch, where Rick still lay unconscious. She’d at least nudged him so he was lying on his side, she’d need more than cigarettes if he aspirated blood at her front door. “I don’t know why he’s here, or even how he found me. He just knocked on the door and passed out.” She thought it best not to mention his comment about her body. “He’s clearly more shitfaced than usual, and I know we should just call Regulation but I don’t want him to die out here.” Her husband heard the concern in her voice, but he also remembered the way he’d found her, lost and out of control because of the old man unconscious in front of them. “You told me that he was never allowed back, not into your life. Just because he’s struggling right now doesn’t mean you should dress his wounds and ignore what you promised yourself.” Her nails bit into her palm. “I know! I know this is shit and I know I’m being hypocritical. But I told him never to come back, he wouldn’t have found his way unless he honestly had no where to go.” Sometimes, he really hated the hold that blue-haired ex boyfriend had over her, how much his influence still shone through, even after over 50 years of being away from him. He hated himself more, though, because he knew how bad she still had it at times, and kept with her whims still. His eyes never faltered from the pathetic heap of limbs on the ground, but his hand reached up and pulled her to his side.

~

Rick lay on their couch, his feet hanging precariously off of the edge. She’d grabbed a paper towel and wiped up the dried blood on his face. “I can’t stand the smell of it, reminds me of bad times,” she muttered. Her husband looked like he didn’t believe her, but she didn’t care. She understood his worry, but also knew how jealous a person could be of an ex, especially since he’d come into the picture just as Rick was slipping out of it. He knew who she had been, but he must be truly stupid to think seeing this man just once was enough to make her go back to the person she was before.

 

Rest hour was closing soon, meaning people would be up and walking around. She needed to take a hose to the blood on their porch, so at least her neighbors wouldn’t be able to pinpoint the scent of it. After spraying the hose on blast, she treated herself to another cigarette, this one much easier to smoke. Her ears picked up the sounds of her neighbors stirring, it was the beginning of another perfectly normal day for them. When she was finished, and had made sure she didn’t reek of smoke, she headed back into her home. Her husband hadn’t moved from his spot in the living room, eyeing Rick like he’d wake up and set the house on fire any minute. She walked past them, heading upstairs to shower and put actual clothes on.

 

When she came back downstairs, dressed and put together, Rick still hadn’t woken up. She gestured to her husband, “I’ll sit and watch him. Go get dressed.” The corners of his lips turned down slightly, but he acquiesced, heading to the room to use what little hot water was left. She let out a deep breath once he was gone. She held still until the shower came on, then headed into the kitchen. While breakfast warmed up, she cracked open the kitchen window and smoked another cigarette. Only half of it had burned down before she dropped the entire thing into the damp sink, diffusing it. The shuffle of cheap couch fabric had her racing into the living room.

 

Rick hadn’t opted to wake up slowly. His body jolted upright, joints cracking in complaint. The first thing he noticed was that he was still fairly drunk, but much more so on a level he could act normally with. Second, he was no longer at that whatever bar, and he certainly wasn’t at his daughter’s house, their couch was softer than this one. So someone had taken him in, meaning he’d probably gone blackout. His stomach churned, rejecting the copious amounts of poison he’d been emptying into it for the past few hours. His head hurt, his nose felt broken, he was actually feeling _old_. He laid himself back down, getting more comfortable on the sofa, and shut his eyes. Whoever had taken him in clearly didn’t mind him drooling all over their Ikea couch, he’d take advantage of that.

 

Not one word had escaped her mouth. She watched him wake up, even survey the room a bit, but she never drew attention to herself. As his breathing got heavier, she could only sit and think of the loss she’d suffered in that moment.

 

But what could she have said anyway? She was too old for screaming and shouting, but much _much_ too old to pretend everything was normal. She couldn’t let her guard down, that’s what she’d been telling herself since he’d fallen flat on her front porch. Yet, without so much as speaking to him, she’d felt all resolve within her collapsing. God, she had to be the most pathetic person on the planet.

 

When her husband came back down, they went to work as usual. There was nothing to drink or eat or even really steal in the house. She’d locked the doors and turned off all of the lights. She expected Rick to be in the same place on her couch when she got back, or better yet, she hoped he’d be gone. Either way, this was a situation she had no issue compartmentalizing.

 

She felt a streak of concern when she came home and he _still_ wasn’t awake. She knew he hadn’t even been up to go to the restroom (dear Lord, if he peed on her couch…), he could be dead for all she really knew. It seemed her husband’s patience had left as well, he was openly unhappy with the fact that he was still there. “Can’t you call someone? You used to be his road girl, surely you know at least _someone_ that could cart him out of here.” She’d rolled her eyes at that, though it stung. “I don’t know any of his family members! And even if I did, we’re on a different planet, remember?”

 

“Then call his _friends_! Like that freaky one with the wings!”

 

Bird person? She hadn’t spoken to him in years. The last time she even saw him was--

 

“Bird person is dead! Remember? We went to his wedding and watched his wife _murder him_?”

 

Her husband had no response to that. They were still in the living room, on either side of the sofa. It felt rude to yell over Rick, but he was in no way listening to them. Exasperated, her husband retreated to his room, and she stayed downstairs, her fingers itching to grasp tobacco rolled in paper. She waited for hours, still in her work clothes, for him to do _anything_

~

Rick’s mouth tasted like something had died in it. He was about to stumble into the hall bathroom to wash his mouth out, but his mind reminded him that he wasn’t, in fact, home. He opted to wash down the taste with alcohol, he was more familiar with that flavor anyway. He felt around for his flask, but noticed he wasn’t even wearing his lab coat. Had the people who put him up just robbed him, was it sitting in a coat hook? Either way, he needed answers, alcohol, and his portal gun.

 

“If you’re looking for your lab coat, you weren’t wearing it when you got here. I don’t have it.”

 

He hadn’t heard that voice in decades. Sure, it sounded resigned and much older, but he never forgot that voice. He peeled his eyes open and stared at the blank white ceiling. With effort, he hoisted his upper body up, and then he was facing her.

 

Even with mussed up hair and disheveled professional attire, she was sexy as hell. Her body was exactly as he remembered, down to the fine details of her face. Sure her mouth seemed to be set in a frown, but that didn’t do much to mar the attractiveness of her features. Fuck, now he remembered why he loved dating vampires. “H-Hey! Cupcake, it’s you!”

 

Her eye twitched at the nickname. At least he seemed to be the same old dirtbag she’d left all those years ago. “Yeah, it’s me. Surprise surprise.”

 

Well, he’d certainly expected a much warmer welcome. Not that it mattered. “Wha-How did I get here?” She gave him a shrug and a look that said she was just as confused as he was. “How should I know, you just appeared at my door, called me sexy, and fell flat on your face. You’ve been pretty much unconscious since then.” He’d called her sexy? He didn’t even remember that! Funny that she did, though. He gave her body a once over again.

 

Why, _why_ did she have to bring up the sexy part? She hadn’t even told her _husband_ that. Speaking of, he must’ve fallen asleep or something, since she didn’t hear him race down the steps to stare daggers the man that broke her. It was probably better, she felt that interacting with Rick Sanchez required a certain strength many lacked, including her husband. “Y-Yeah welp. Thanks for putting me up, cupcake.” There it was again.

 

Using the old nickname made his chest feel tight in a way he hated. It reminded him of his daughter, of his grandkids. And thinking of them made him think of that piece of shit that stole them from him. He’d better change the subject. “So what brings you to the literal edge of the universe?” Good, she’d changed it for him. “Oh, you know. The usual, drinking and pissing idiots off until they’re forced to remove me from the property.” He saw a little smile grow on her lips, he remembered making a run for it with her at times, she did too. “Well next time install some portal gun GPS or something, literally how the fuck did you manage to just appear here?” She had a point. He never knew where she lived, this had to be some twisted luck or something. Maybe all that interdimensional movement really had an effect on his reality.

 

He rose from the uncomfortable sofa and ambled into the kitchen. Opening the fridge, he saw a mess of heinously inedible things, but rifled through it anyway. The girl he knew was an avid drinker, there had to be liquor in this house. “S-So how’s life? It’s been what, 60 years? Besides still being hot, you clearly aren’t running around chasing drugs and parties any-anymore.”

 

God she wanted to strangle him. His aloof attitude, was he just pretending that everything was as it’d been before?! Just because she looked the same didn’t mean she hadn’t grown or even changed! “I’ve been living here since we last saw each other. The entire planet is a vampire majority.” He was waving her off, she could feel it. “Not that bo-URGH-ing shit. I mean what have _you_ been doing?”

 

“You already said it. I’m settled now. There’s no alcohol in the house, or even on this planet, by the way.”

 

That shut him down. He huffed and slammed the fridge shut. When he reached the living room once more, he _really_ took her in. She was sitting with one leg crossed over the other, her posture slouching, her eyes had a glassiness to them. Even though she didn’t age, he could see the years on her. Hell, for the first time he really recognized that she’d been alive longer than him. It soured his good mood even more. Finding her hadn’t been on his agenda, she was nothing but an afterthought unless he was sober and intrusive thoughts weren’t barred by alcohol. “Wow, way to become like everyone else. A-And here I thought you were the only person in existence almost as smart as me,” he grumbled softly.

 

It didn’t matter that he’d said it softly, she had heard him. His words cut her deep, deeper than the comment her husband had made earlier. That sickened her. “Yeah well, not all of us hate ourselves and spend every waking minute trying to forget that by running around doing dangerous shit.” It was immature, she knew words were never the way to go when trying to hurt Rick.  “A-Aw you fucking cut me. I’m not running, I-I’m _living_ cupcake!”

 

“Stop calling me that!”

 

“Why? Y-You used to love it, you would beg me to call you that whenever we were fucking. I-I mean, not like you deserve it now.” His eyes were cold, disinterested but judging her all the same. “There’s not a single bit of life left in you.” While words never seemed to touch him, he could certainly cleave someone’s soul with the sharpness of his tongue. Had she not been alive more than 700 years, she would have burst into tears at such hateful words. They still threatened to spill over as they welled in her eyes, though.

 

What had she expected? He was too free, even for her, she’d learned that decades ago. The heartbreak was over with, and this was just some cruel reminder that they were never on the same page. Even if by some miracle he had loved her, he had never needed her. Being smart only really meant that they could emulate what they hated in one another, things were no different, but everything was different. “Call your family,” she said in a low voice.

 

He knew what he’d said was wrong, but he hadn’t expected to see tears in her eyes, not over something as petty as his words. She’d really grown weaker since he’d seen her, and he didn’t think that was possible. “Can’t. They ki-EURGH-cked me out, cupcake. Turns out I’m just too interesting for everyone.” He hoped she didn’t hear the hurt in those words, he was good at masking pain, but she was one of the few that saw right through it. It was as alluring as it was infuriating.

 

“Then call squanchy! I don’t fucking care!” She just wanted him out of her house and out of her life. Even in her own home, in her own personal reality on a planet she’d discovered herself, she felt like she had lost control. He didn’t argue, clearly over the conversation as well. “I would, but unfortunately my lab coat with all my valuable shit in it is gone.” She rolled her eyes and marched upstairs. He watched her behind as she left. No matter how much they loathed each other’s personalities, she sure had a nice body, he could always appreciate that.

 

Her husband wasn’t sleeping when she entered their room, that was the first thing she noticed. He had a book in hand, his nails digging so deeply into it that there were going to be grooves. He said nothing as she walked to their closet, sliding its door open and digging through old heels and suitcases. He knew what she was looking for.

 

Her chest seized when she finally found it buried under everything. It was a handgun, smaller and much rougher than the one Rick carried now, and full of whatever glowing green liquid he powered it with. It had been years since she’d seen it, she had buried it after using it only one time. He’d told her to leave him and had given her the only portal gun he’d made. Now she was sure he had tons, probably sold them to intergalactic species for more than they were ever worth. Her husband looked at her, then looked at the device in her hand. “I’m not leaving with him, don’t worry,” she joked in a cold, hard voice. Before he could respond, she was heading downstairs.

 

“Here, use it and find somewhere to go.” Rick looked up when he heard her voice. He had been messing with buttons on the television, his mind always in salvage mode. He lit up when he saw the portal gun waving around in her hand. “Oh _wow_ , you still have that old thing? I-It’s been years since I’ve seen it modeled like that!” She didn’t seem to share his excitement. It didn’t deter him, though, this coldness was something he was accustomed to, eventually everyone iced him out.

 

“Yeah, I still have it. Now can you just…” she extended the device toward him, “...put in some coords and get out of here?”

 

He was happy to oblige. Without any liquor his thoughts were getting dangerously clear, he would need a re-up on that, not to mention clothes that weren’t soaked in alcohol and vomit, and another flask to pull from. He took it, typing in numbers without even thinking about them. She eyed the digits, but had no real idea where he was planning to go, like always. Her mind was already looking forward to that next cigarette.

 

She was handed back the gun and then it was poised to shoot at the back wall. Before she could, however, Rick was in her face, much closer than he’d been since arriving. Past the puke and permanent stench of alcohol, she could smell the same fragrance he wore. It was cheap, something she’d found at a pawn shop on another planet and given to him for his 23rd birthday. He’d made fun of her for even caring when it was obvious he didn’t but the very next day she could smell it on him like it had always been there. “Y-You know, whatever you’re thinking is wrong. I’m not that same person.” Ugh, why was he even talking right now? “I might not be any nicer but I ha-have a family now, and a shithead grandson whose moral bullshit rubs off on me.” What was this, some sort of apology for the way he had treated her decades ago? Why couldn’t he just disappear? _Yeah, some change. Your entire family turned their backs on you, you’re that same piece of garbage from before and you know it. Because you can never just love someone back_. She should’ve said that, but instead she just shrugged and said “Yeah, well I’m sure that’s great.”

~

He was gone. The glowing green portal had remained open for a few seconds, as if beckoning her to run right after him. She’d stood and watched it close. There was an eternal moment of stillness, then she went back upstairs to change her clothes. She didn’t put the gun away, just set it on her dresser.

 

Day passed, and her husband was tired of seeing that thing. It was bulky, cluttering their already cluttered dresser. When all the lights were off, it cast an unnatural green glow against the walls. He didn’t say anything to her, though, let himself pretend everything was normal just like she did.

 

It was an icy few days of smoking in secret and staring at the far wall of her living room, where the portal had been. She knew it was ridiculous. She’d live forever, had already lived more lifetimes than a person could dream of. But here she was, falling apart because of a single person. Why, _why_ did he have so much power over her? She hadn’t seen him in _years_ , yet one instance, one _single_ conversation with him and it was like someone had ripped off several bandaids inside her chest.

 

She couldn’t open up to her husband about this; he was a great man, but no man is that great, and he’d only be disappointed in her when he found out just how bad of an idea it was to let him back in. Because that’s what it was, he had wormed his way back in, she wasn’t nearly as impenetrable as she believed. Or...maybe she was, but hiding from the smartest man in the universe just wasn’t something anyone could do.

 

Her husband caught her smoking a week later in their kitchen during rest hour. She had been doing well, even keeping the smoke smell off of her. But it was one of the more difficult times, when sleep alluded her and she needed an escape of _some_ sort. He had come downstairs, roused from sleep the moment she left their bed. He had been suspicious, but seeing it made him feel worse. He didn’t want to just say I told you so, he felt like thrashing her, or crushing her to his chest and demanding she tell him that she was okay. He really loved her, toxic as she was.

 

“You’re smoking again?”

It was all he said, but she heard the weight in his words. She nodded, and put the cigarette out in the kitchen sink. He leaned against the counter, staring at her, saying nothing. She didn’t meet his eyes, wouldn’t even turn around “I don’t get it,” she finally mumbled. “I just...I don’t get how I could be so...so _weak_.” Yeah, that was a tremble in her voice. Finally he broke and came over to her. He encircled his arms around her, pulling her body to his. Her hair pretty much smelled like smoke, but not at the roots, where he pressed his nose and took a deep breath of nothing but her scent. She sniffled, but didn’t cry. He could imagine her thoughts right now. They weren’t with him, what he was doing now was required and thank-less for a spouse. There had been a few times like this when they’d first met, when he knew her heart was elsewhere but had no choice but to let him have hers, if only to fill the space in her chest. She never broke down like this, seeing it now made him sick, it reminded him why Rick Sanchez was a monster, irredeemable trash.

 

His itch to console her grew, but it was effectively snuffed out the more he recognized that she was sad over _him_ , she was walking their house at odd hours and practicing destructive habits because of how much she loved _him_. He’d seen it before, and stomached it as much as he could. Being strong for the both of them felt impossible then, and he knew it’d be no easier now.

 

Still, he couldn’t deny how much he loved her.

 

It was probably as much as she still loved Rick.


End file.
